


in the meantime we let it go, at the roadside we used to know

by r1ker



Category: Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith
Genre: F/M, M/M, i started writing this at four am and here we are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 23:57:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5560867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r1ker/pseuds/r1ker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>he dreams what he feels will be of nothing in particular like it has so been in the last few weeks, but is sorely mistaken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in the meantime we let it go, at the roadside we used to know

**Author's Note:**

> my loose interpretation of anakin's premonitions as i observed through half-assedly watching revenge of the sith over christmas break
> 
> enjoy
> 
> title from imagine dragons' shots (the broiler remix is A1)

The first time Anakin falls asleep in his master’s bed, it's entirely on accident.

 

They've taken up in Obi-Wan’s room with a healthy stack of protocols, everything ranging from droid improvements to alliance memos. Obi-Wan’s taken to reading most of the content aloud, emphasizing parts the two of them shouldn’t forget later on down the road. It’s not enough to bore Anakin to tears like it would have in years past but he does kick back on the bed and toes his boots off, props his feet at the foot of the bed.

 

It starts out as Anakin lounging upright on a stack of pillows brought to him by a housekeeping droid then he starts to slide down on the bed. Then it's a blanket over his legs, a hand rubbing over his eyes and not soon after he is completely gone. Behind closed eyelids he sees the light go out in the room. The rustle of papers accompanies the darkness and so does a shift of weight on the bed. After that there’s silence, nothing but quiet breathing from the other person in the room.

 

In the night an arm comes to settle over Anakin’s shoulders, a chin dips into the hard curve of his shoulder. Sleeping, he doesn’t think much of it. In fact it provides a reassuring but gentle weight, something to ground him while he dreams of nothing in particular.

 

In his dreams there is the typical vision of Padmé, her beauty never failing to leave his thoughts for even a second. Tonight, however, there’s something new; he’s standing in the middle of a well-endowed field, more grass and wheat rising around him than he’s ever seen before, and he can hear two little voices. They’re subdued, speaking to one another without the intention of being overheard by someone else, but laced with self-indulgent giggles. If Anakin had to guess there are a brother and sister nearby.

 

His hypothesis is confirmed when he sees the two little ones standing side by side at the top of a hill. The little boy is as blond and towheaded as Anakin once was, honeyed strands lopping down over his ears and forehead in desperate need of a good trim. His sister is the embodiment of Padmé with dark hair and deep eyes that almost take the breath from Anakin’s lungs when she angles her head to look at him.

 

Soon her brother joins her in gazing at the newcomer and his blue eyes overtake Anakin as well. The two are night in day in appearance but the same in behavior, he observes once they turn back around to glance at the blanching sunset. Twin heads turn in deep contemplation of the scene before them, perking when animals in the distance give low bellows. From time to time the boy will giggle something about what sort of creature could be down there causing a fuss and the girl tolerates, smiles when he does genuinely crack a few jokes about it.

 

“Hello,” he calls out to the dream children, voice sounding different than what it is in real life. It’s softer, something he’s never had before for anyone else. Again the two turn back around and start to walk towards him, the boy at a quicker pace than the girl. He can tell he’s the more easily excited of the duo and Anakin is soon met with an armful of him, hefting him up into his arms without question. The girl comes to rest at Anakin’s hip with both arms spiraling around his waist. “Oh, goodness.” Anakin breathes out his words with a huff when another set of arms wrap tight around his neck in a firm hug. His breathlessness is neutralized by the positively beaming and satisfied smile on the boy’s face. He grins too, can’t help it because his son’s is most contagious.

 

Someone he doesn’t see right off the bat is Padmé. If these are the children he’s due to have with her in a few months, where is their mother? Turning around to survey the land with the girl making it up into his grip to rest her legs against her brother’s, there’s no farmhouse or homestead in sight. In fact they seem to be the only humans for miles when his eyes pan out to observe the vastness of the scene.

 

When the girl lets out a small sigh Anakin turns his head to look at her. She’s got her hands up where he can see them and she’s fidgeting. Again her eyes meet his and she relaxes once more, joins her brother’s arms with hers and resting her head on her father’s shoulder. He hefts the children up higher in his arms, their weight nothing to his muscles. Holding these children feels right, the premonitions he had earlier irrelevant when it comes to knowing that these two little beings are of his and Padmé’s blood.

 

He can feel the Force prickling soon thereafter, even in his dreams and soon the girl is there, her presence being made known in that field. Anakin instantly senses distress in her portion of the Force and does another turn around with the children still on each of his hips. His feet nearly knock over the tombstone that’s appeared behind him. The boy lets out a whimper, the girl’s hands grip his tunic tightly, and his own stomach does a violent jolt.

 

_Padmé Amidala – Queen, Beloved Mother and Wife_

There’s screaming he can’t identify, who’s doing it and where it’s coming from. It’s loud, a terribly anguished noise and he wishes it would stop. Wishes it would stop violating the private moment he is having with what are to be his future children, stop making his ears ring with its voracity. It doesn’t stop, rather gets louder and louder until it’s all he can hear. _Gods,_ he curses in his mind, _could someone make it stop?_

 

The children are silent in his arms. He brings one hand up to his constricting throat and soon discovers it’s him. It’s her dead and buried at the ground at his feet. The loamy ground his children walked on just minutes ago, the two thinking nothing of the fate of the ones who brought them into this world with the childish disregard Anakin himself still wishes he had, is the final blanket their mother will sleep beneath.

 

The sob that wakes Anakin is enough to scare him out of a deep sleep. He’s momentarily paralyzed where he lies by the darkness that encompasses the entire suite, only brought down slightly when his hands grope around him. Obi-Wan is sound asleep still at his side, breathing in soft rasps with a blanket pulled up to his nose. Anakin’s heart thunders in his chest and for a few fleeting seconds he’s afraid it’ll jolt straight from his chest to burst before him in the air.

 

“Obi-Wan,” he whispers frantically, touching his master’s forehead and cheek in a desperate effort to get him to awaken, reassure him that what atrocity he was just drug from was only a dream. Thankfully Obi-Wan stirs after a few seconds, eyes blinking sluggishly and hand going to Anakin’s waist for stability.

 

“Are you alright,” Obi-Wan breathes out with a voice that still yearns for sleep. He goes into full awake mode once he senses the panic Anakin radiates through the Force. Soon the two are sitting up, the lights above being barked into one-third of their full radiance, and Obi-Wan has two hands on the young man’s face.

 

Anakin’s tears fall easily, slipping down his cheeks to dampen the contact Obi-Wan’s hands have with him. He knows what has him upset – _the premonitions, my God, they were right_ , he thinks in a flurry – but something else intensifies the panic.

 

“They were so beautiful, Obi-Wan,” he cries out, still able to see behind his closed eyes the imprint of his son and his daughter. He yearns to have them back in his arms, cherishing internally the way it felt so right to be a parent to two beings he’d only known for brief moments.

 

“Who was, Anakin?” Obi-Wan asks then falters. Through the Force he can see them too and his breath is taken away. Those are the children of the rebellion, their father silently sobbing in his arms. “Oh my…” He trails off once the two figures appear before him. Their looks are unmistakable and the age spot-on for the current situation. Anakin’s cries are distressed, worried and overpower any further thoughts Obi-Wan could wish to have. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He apologizes for it like it’s his fault Anakin will be right.

 

After all, that’s all he’s been able to do for months now, acquiesce to the impending doom Anakin’s mind makes for him. He is powerless to stop it, can merely work with it and dream to overcome it. For now he holds him close, lets Anakin wrap arms around him like he’s in danger of floating away by way of an invisible sea when in fact he’s on dry land.

 

“She’s going to die,” he cries out after several minutes close to his master. The weight and feel of the man he is holding onto desperately seems to do nothing to ground him. It feels like he too is slipping away for no reason at all, and if worse came to worst it would be him joining Padmé in a grave, maybe right next to him. Their enemies are vast in number, innumerable in power, and developing each day. This could all be reality at the drop of a hat.

 

Obi-Wan can’t respond. He too is gripped by that same overwhelming sense of futility to this life they live, safe in the Force but not as seemingly in real life.


End file.
